


Valentine's Day

by writergal85



Category: The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergal85/pseuds/writergal85
Summary: Valentine's Day, after Jane leaves
Relationships: Adele Rochester & Edward Rochester, Jane Eyre/Edward Rochester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Valentine's Day

_Edward_

He'd completely forgotten about Valentine's Day.

Okay, that wasn't true. He'd made a Herculean effort to forget about the holiday, but between the commercials for engagement rings, perfumes and chocolates and the endless rows of pink and red hearts at every store, it was impossible.

And he'd made plans for this Valentine's Day—very specific plans—for the first Valentine's Day he and Jane would spend together. Probably the first Valentine's Day she'd ever celebrated, if her history with birthdays and Christmases was any indication. It still made him angry to think about her as a kid, stuck in a house where no one wanted to celebrate the day she was born.

In her last video, she'd said, "And it's so nice to be around people that just care about each other." He knew what she really meant, but it still stung. He was trying. Couldn't she see that?

Of course she couldn't. She wasn't here.

He opened his sock drawer, reached in the back, underneath the pair of plain white athletic socks he never wore, and pulled out a long, flat black velvet box. There would have been flowers and breakfast in bed and chocolate and probably a singing telegram, too—he always overdid it—but the bracelet was the piece de resistance.

Jane had never cared much for jewelry, except for the cross around her neck. She'd practically thrown the tiara he'd bought her back in his face, and it had been a week before she'd stopped switching her engagement ring from finger to finger, as if she was unsure of where it fit. He'd known what her reaction would be once she opened the box and saw the links of silver and gold, fine and delicate, but obviously expensive. "It's too much. I can't take it."

But he thought maybe, once he explained that the bracelet had once been his mother's and that he'd had it repaired and sized just for her, she'd understand what it meant to him to give this to her. That it was a piece of his life he was choosing to share.

He'd almost given it to her for Christmas, but cowardly changed his mind while in Paris, suddenly afraid of revealing that part of himself. He knew if he started telling her that story, he'd tell her all of it. She'd look at him, her face sympathetic and open, and everything would come spilling out in a giant pile of word vomit.

He'd seen the Marie Antoinette tea cup at an auction and had been reminded of Jane and her ridiculous tea habits, so he'd given her that instead. She'd left it in her room when she fled, along with the other things he'd bought her. Even her ring, which he still carried in his pocket, as a reminder of her and what she'd told him before she left.

"You've treated the others so much worse."

"Because if I stay you'll keep doing it. You'll see me and not them."

He tossed the jewelry box back in the drawer and slammed it shut. Perhaps he'd give the bracelet to Adele when she was older, and tell her the story. What she didn't already know of it from Jane's videos.

Right now, he just wouldn't think about it. He'd focus on caring about the people he still had, like he had promised.

_Adele_

She knew something was wrong when she went downstairs and found her dad in the kitchen. Behind the counter. Which was crowded with rows of ice cream toppings and what looked like half of a candy store. He frowned down at the toaster like he wasn't sure how to work it.

"Dad, what are you doing? Where's Ricardo?"

"Gave him the morning off. I'm making breakfast today."

Her eyes widened. Her dad, cooking? Ricardo would be so mad, he'd probably even ban Grace from "his" kitchen for a week.

"But… you can't cook."

"I can make waffles–well, sort of." He grinned sheepishly and held up a box of Eggos. "But we've got all the toppings—maple syrup, chocolate syrup, chocolate chips, whipped cream, gummi bears, peanut butter, Smarties and I think there are strawberries in here somewhere. What do you want?"

She looked warily at the mess of containers on the counter. Why was he doing this? "Um, I probably shouldn't be eating this much sugar for breakfast. Studies say —"

"Studies? Hey, who's the dad here? That's right—I am. And I say you can eat sugar for breakfast, if you want." He shrugged. "C'mon, it's Valentine's Day."

Oh. That's what this was about. That's why he'd gotten up extra early this morning to eat breakfast with her, instead of rolling out of bed at the last minute and throwing on clothes to drive her to school. Because it was Valentine's Day, he was lonely, and he missed Jane.

She felt just the tiniest flare of anger knowing that he wouldn't be doing this for her if Jane hadn't told him he needed to. If she hadn't left the two of them to figure out how to be father and daughter by themselves, while she found new friends and a new life.

"Please Adele? At least help me figure out what's wrong with the toaster. It keeps burning the waffles." He laughed, but it was hollow and his voice cracked like he might start crying.

Then again, she was lonely too. And she missed Jane, too. And he was still her dad, and he was trying.

She dropped her bookbag on the floor and hopped up on one of the kitchen bar stools. "You've got it set too high. And sometimes they get stuck, so you have to watch them."

He nodded. "Well, why don't you watch them—since you are obviously the toastmaster," he said, winking at her. "And I'll get us something to drink. What do you want? Orange juice?"

She smiled. "Yes, please."

She spooned strawberries and whipped cream on her waffle, while her dad squirted chocolate syrup on his and dotted each crevice with gummi bears and Smarties.

"You'll make yourself sick," she said.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Will I? I think you're just jealous, because you don't have any candy." He sprinkled a handful of Smarties over her waffle. She had to admit—it tasted better.

"Did you know that chocolate has an anti-bacterial effect on the mouth and can protect against tooth decay?"

"Great—so I don't have to brush my teeth anymore?"

"Ew, Dad."

The drive to school was short. Remembering his toastmaster's comment, she told him they were learning more about public speaking in school. "We have to write a speech about something that interests us and then present it. I think I'll write about beluga whales."

"Like the ones you saw at the aquarium?"

"Yes," she said, pleased and slightly surprised he'd read that far back into her tweets. But he had retweeted a lot.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "I've never given a speech before." Talking to her Dad or Grace — or Jane — about the things she learned was one thing, but the idea of standing up in front of the entire class and telling them made her palms sweat.

"Don't worry about it. I give speeches all the time — and you're much smarter than me, so you'll definitely be awesome." He glanced from the road for a second to smile at her.

Will you help me? she wanted to ask, but should she? Did he want to? Did he have the time? "Got any tips?"

"Well…" His brow furrowed in thought as they rounded the corner and pulled into the line of cars leading to the school. "Start with something funny, a joke or something, to get them laughing. Then pick one person in the crowd — just one — and give the entire speech to them."

She thought about her classmates, none of whom seemed to like her very much. They mostly ignored her when she tried to talk to them about the things she was interested in. Her favorite person was her teacher, Mrs. Bradley, who always listened. "Who?"

"It can be anyone. Someone you know in the crowd or a complete stranger. You just imagine they are your best friend, listening to you and that they understand you and—" He stopped, breathed in deep, and gripped the steering wheel harder, until his knuckles turned white. She knew he was probably thinking about Jane — he'd had that same pained look a lot the past several weeks — so she waited.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "And if that doesn't work, just picture them all in their underwear."

She laughed, and he smiled again, just a little. "Yeah, I've heard that before."

They were in front of the school now, and she gathered her bag to get out of the car. "Bye Dad."

"Bye Adele. Grace will be here at 3 to pick up you for fencing. I've got a meeting."

"Okay." She opened the door, then paused. She wasn't going to give this to him, but maybe he needed it. Maybe he deserved it. She unzipped the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out the card she'd made a week ago — a pink and red heart-shaped collage of funny socks, with the words "You knock my socks off Valentine!" in bold white letters.

"Dad. Happy Valentine's Day."


End file.
